


A Dribble of PTX Drabbles

by FreyaOdin



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreyaOdin/pseuds/FreyaOdin
Summary: A collection of Pentatonix drabbles based on a list of writing prompts. Humor, angst, likely some romance. No doubt eventually some smut because it's me.





	1. Lock

**Author's Note:**

> In an effort to restart my failing creativity levels, this work will be a collection of drabbles based on the following writing prompts.

Mitch is sitting on the doorstep, watching the sunset and fiddling with the key in his hand. The door suddenly opens and he almost gets stepped on.

“Mitch?” Scott’s startled. Off balance. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Shitty day.” Understatement. “Beau’s out of town and I wasn’t sure…”

“You’re always welcome.” Scott’s gaze flicks to his hands. “You wouldn’t have that otherwise, dumbass.”

Mitch snorts and lets Scott pull him upright. Slides the key into his pocket.

“Wine?” Scott offers, heading for his kitchen even though he’d obviously been about to go out.

Mitch twists the lock shut and follows.


	2. Paper Cut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Esther's busy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the drabble prompts in Chapter 1

“Esther? Do you have a band-aid?”

She’s got ten minutes to finish adjusting this rider or the venue will legally be able to screw them. “There’s a first aid kit in the green room.”

“Can you get it? I’m bleeding.”

She glances up, takes note of the world’s smallest wound, and refocuses on her screen. “It’s a paper cut.”

“It hurts.” 

Her eye twitches.

“I could develop gangrene,” the whining continues. “My finger could fall off. I could  _ die _ .”

“If you don’t let me finish this, I’ll arrange that.”

There’s a pause. “Or I could get it myself.”

“Good call.”


	3. Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch loves New York.

Mitch loves New York. Loves the anonymity and towering bustle. Loves the fashion, being able to wear beautiful coats and layers of sweater without roasting alive. 

But he’s not used to dusk falling by five, nor the way no one slows down even in the glare of the setting sun, nor the bite in the air that looks crisp in movies but stings after only a moment in real life.

Long arms wrap around him, a chin settling on his shoulder, keeping him warm as they watch the deepening colors painted across the sky.

Mitch smiles. He loves New York.


	4. Award

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've won.

They’re ten rows back, surrounded by the most talented people in the industry. Their names come on screen and Scott’s hand clenches around Mitch’s, Mitch’s around Kirstie’s, and probably so on down the line but Scott can’t make himself turn to check because he’s too busy not breathing.

The envelope takes forever to open, but then they’ve won. Ben, Mitch, him, Avi, Kirstie, Kevin. All of them. They’ve won.

He only vaguely remembers his speech, losing Ben for a moment, trying not to forget anyone in his fluster and excitement, confessing his nerves to the world. 

Holy shit. They’ve  _ won _ .


	5. Twilight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don’t ask.

“What are you reading?” Kevin asks, unsure he wants to know.

“Fanfic,” Kirstie replies.

Now he’s sure he doesn’t want to know, yet he can’t stop himself. “About us?”

“Kinda.”

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t-- “Kinda?”

“It’s an AU.” Kirstie smiles. “You’re a vampire.”

That’s… weird. But also cool. He enjoyed shooting the spooky side of Making Christmas. “Handsome, lethal, and brooding?”

“Accurate,” she agrees. “Although…”

“Although?”

“You know Mitch’s glittery new suit?”

Uh oh. “The over the top one that makes him so happy?”

“Yep!” Her smile turns into a smirk. “It can’t compare to your sparkle.”

 _Don’t ask_.

 


	6. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's dark when Mitch wakes.

It’s dark when Mitch wakes. He listens intently, unsure what disturbed him. The curtains are drawn, no light leaking around their edges.

He flicks his fingers, weaving a flame on his bedside table, barely stronger than a candle. It casts shadows that lick across the walls, but there’s nothing strange to be found. The castle remains silent. 

His bed partner does not. A disgruntled groan and what sounds like “nahfukuff” later and a water imp is sloshing her way across the table, steam billowing as Mitch’s flame is unceremoniously extinguished. 

That would be one vote ‘no’ for waking before dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble references by longer fic, Blood Lines.


	7. Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New guy problems

Matt’s cold has expanded the bottom of his range, but it’s screwing up his ear. When he comes in, three noses wrinkle and they’re right. He’s off key. Again. 

Kirstie’s sympathetic. “It’s okay.”

Matt’s still enough of The New Guy to be embarrassed, but Kevin’s forehead furrows. “Do that again.”

Matt does. Kevin nods and points to Kirstie, who adds her note, followed by Mitch. 

Scott breathes a startled “oh!” and comes in as well, except he drops the whole chord into a diminished seventh and Kevin grins and okay, wow. That  _ works _ . 

Guess he shouldn’t always shoot for drama-free.


	8. Concert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They move in concert.

The opening act wraps and the fans scatter for the break, seeking restrooms or snack bars or just mingling near their seats. 

They move in concert. Scott, ever more noticeable, bumps into this person or trips over that, all flirty apologies and practiced charm.

Mitch, with his slight build and average height, swoops in behind, relieving each mark of any valuables he can reach. 

Scott once believed they’d be the ones on stage, singing for crowds just like this. Life didn’t work out, but this is good.  _ They  _ are good. It’s just they perform for one person at a time.


	9. Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 28th way

His date insults the waitress again and Scott smiles apologetically, staying quiet only to avoid having drama splashed across the internet by morning.

He’s wishing he never asked Erik out and pondering escape routes. Sadly, their tiny table doesn’t provide enough cover for his first choice: stealth-texting Mitch for an ‘emergency’ call.

He sips some ice water to hide an eyeroll as Erik continues whining about the world. The cold stings a bit; he’d had a sensitivity issue last week, but while his dentist already took care of the problem, the concept promises salvation.

“Oww! My tooth is killing me!” 


	10. Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get him.

Kirstie isn’t sure how so many children accumulated backstage. There are several mini-Scotts, a half-dozen Sallee cousins, and a few kids belonging Kevin’s friends, all rampaging as only preschoolers can.

She’s good with kids and manages to calm them, but despite their obedience, they’re restless. They deserve someone to run around with them, but her ankle can’t handle it.

Then the solution to her problem comes around the corner, face buried in his phone.

“Hey Mitch,” she says.

“Hi, Kirs--” He looks up, eyes widening as he takes in her array of minions.

She smirks. “Get him!”

Mitch, wisely, runs.


	11. Tattoo

“Does it hurt too much?” Mitch asks. He’s alternating between wandering to explore the designs on the wall, and sitting next to Scott, holding his hand and running fingers through his hair. 

It  _ does _ hurt, especially this session on the sensitive skin of his tricep. But Scott’s so used to his shoulder and arm hurting, he barely notices. It’s where it doesn’t hurt that bothers him, where the scarring has damaged his nerve endings. It’s unsettling.

But it’s not a concern for either Mitch or Romeo, so he says, “I’m fine,” because he is, or at least he will be. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble references my longer fic, Blink.


	12. Hallucinations

He’s onstage. He can feel the lights on his face. The crowd is cheering, dancing. The last note fades and he hears Kirstin thank them, loud and clear through his in-ears. The others stand beside him, grinning and waving. He’ll never get enough of this feeling. 

“Grandpa, you want some tea?” 

He blinks, disoriented. The stage disappears, replaced by Mary, his granddaughter. Her new son is asleep on her shoulder. 

She looks concerned. “Are you okay?”

He’s not, really. Hasn’t been for some time, and she knows that better than he does. But he smiles just the same. “Never better!”


	13. Gift

Scott doesn’t have to ask. Hasn’t even thought of asking yet. Which is good, because how do you begin to request such a selfless, priceless gift?

Lauren is grinning and babbling two seconds after he mentions they’re starting to think about kids. “Can I be the surrogate? Mitch would have to be the biological father, obviously, but then they’d be related to you both. Unless you want a seperate egg donor? That’s fine, too. Whatever you two deci—”

Scott hugs her, hiding his tears in the curve of her neck. His family, his beautiful, soon-to-expand family, is the absolute best. 


	14. Sunset

Scott’s sprawled on the couch with Kirstie asleep in his lap and Matt snoring in the corner.

Kevin and Mitch are discussing why it’s still called ‘sunrise’ even though the sun never actually rises. Mitch suggests renaming it ‘sunsight’ or ‘lightgreet’ or whatever, but Kevin’s all ‘cultural inertia’ and ‘linguistic relativity’, and Mitch is tipsily intrigued and ‘oooh,  _ interesting _ . Tell me more.’

It’s the type of nerdy conversation Scott would normally be into, but he’s a little too drunk and a lot too tired, so he continues staring out the window, watching the colors of  _ whatever _ bloom across the sky.

  
  



	15. Moon

“Can you bring me a moon?”

Mitch’s dad looks up from his parchments. “They’re too big and too far away.”

That can’t be right. “But you’re an archmage.”

His dad pats his lap, letting Mitch clamber on. “Not even an archmage can do everything, Mitchy. You’ll learn that with time.”

Mitch ponders this. “Are the leys not strong enough?”

His dad shrugs. “They might be, but I’m not. I’d burn myself out channeling that much power.” He smiles, rueful. “Besides, pulling in a moon would break the world.”

Mitch frowns. “Breaking the world would be bad.”

“Words to live by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble references my longer fic, Blood Lines.


	16. Roof

Matt wakes to a loud thump above him that sounds like a bad guy breaking in. What he should do is wake his parents, but he’s scared, so he pulls his blankets up higher.

There’s another thump, followed by that sound his father makes when he’s trying not to cuss, and a ‘shhh!’ that might be his mom.

Why would they be in the attic?

But then he hears the ringing clatter of jingle bells falling over and realizes the muffled ‘Are you kidding me?’ isn’t his dad in the attic, but Santa on the roof and he grins. Presents!


	17. Bully

Mitch should be used to it. He grew up in Texas, high-pitched, feminine, dramatic, and distinct. He was told what he was in the harshest of terms long before he was certain himself. 

As his fame grows, the topics expand to his fashion sense, hair choices, partners, and friends. Everything that he is, everything that he does. No single remark has importance, as those jeering no longer hold sway. But the sum is unyielding, and though it’s ignorable most of the time, the weight of it seeps throughout his whole world until he shuts down his phone just to breathe. 

 


	18. Camera

Mitch squints at his phone. “Why are the kids going nuts about missing us being cute together?”

Scott has one arm around Mitch, scrolling Twitter with his free hand. “Something about us cuddling again?”

Mitch frowns, confused. “Did we stop?”

The shoulder under his shrugs. “We haven’t on camera for a while.” Scott tilts his screen so Mitch can see a pixelated image. Yep, that’s them. 

“Who took that?”

“Not sure.” Scott’s thumb continues swiping until a gif appears on his timeline, the guilty party’s selfied face in the foreground with them behind. 

Mitch should have known. It’s always Kevin. 

  
  



	19. Drive

Scott’s never been good at relaxing. He enjoys it for a day, maybe two, after a project or tour. A few extra if there’s abundant booze or sex. A full week if a tropical paradise is involved, especially with booze and sex.

But then he itches with the need to make something. Write something. Arrange. Perform. Produce. He calls Mario into a studio at the last minute, collabs with friends on singles or albums, takes a breath then puts together a whole new group.

It’s too much sometimes; he’s exhausted. But he’s happy, so he can never resist the drive.


	20. Ghost

“We should do an homage to Grease, but reversed,” Dano suggests. 

“Oooh,” Scott runs through the lyrics. “I always wanted to be Sandy.”

Frankie smiles. “Awesome, I get badass girl T-Birds.”

That  _ is _ awesome. “I want Pastel Gays instead of Pink Ladies.”

Dano snorts. “Of course you do.”

Frankie wrinkles her nose. “I hate the ‘change yourself for your crush’ theme though.”

Scott shrugs. “So I change myself to show you what you’re missing, but then reject you anyway?”

“Since the whole song is bitter, and you—” Dano points at Scott, “—were cast out of spite, that actually sounds perfect.”


	21. Alcohol

Mitch is on his stomach, at rest, comfortably spread across smooth sheets. The flickering candlelight is cozy. 

He knows the signs. Scott’s planning some sort of sensory play. He squirms as fingers trace his back, slightly ticklish, but stills when a hand squeezes his hip. 

A liquid sloshes and something soft trails over his spine, following the line of the fingers. It’s not immediately cold, merely wet, but it evaporates so quickly Mitch can feel gooseflesh spreading out from everywhere it touched. 

He shivers, almost violently, and is soothed only by the warmth of Scott’s lips curving against his skin. 

 


	22. Band-Aid

Ben’s trying to fix his flash’s weird delay when the door to the green room bursts open. 

“Avoid the office, Esther’s in a  _ mood _ .”

Esther’s apparently not the only one. “She’s fixing that clusterfuck with next Tuesday’s venue, of course she’s in a mood.”

“Do you know where the band-aids are?”

Ben looks at the finger thrust in his direction. “It’s not even bleeding.”

“It  _ was _ . I don’t want it reopening on stage.”

“In case you slip in the gigantic puddle it makes?”

The close-up Ben gets of the resulting pout is fantastic, and hey sweet, he fixed his flash. 

 


	23. Jeans

It’s the middle of the night when Suhana pauses in the doorway, entering once Kirstie looks up.

“I brought his clothes,” she whispers. “We cut off his jeans, and the paramedics destroyed his shirt, but it’s all here and, well, they’re his.”

Kirstie smiles. “Maybe on the table?”

She complies. 

Mitch mumbles, “Wha’s happ’nin’?” but Kirstie shushes him back to sleep with a pat on his knee.

Scott doesn’t move. 

Suhana’s been a fan forever; she came up herself just to confirm they’d be okay. But she feels like she’s intruding, so after a rueful smile for Kirstie, she flees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one references my longer fic, Blink.


	24. Rug

The green room is amply-stocked, but the floor covering is…

“Ew,” Kirstie says, which Matt thinks is well-reasoned. 

Kevin, ever the optimist, says, “At least it has all the rainbow colors?”

Scott snorts. “I prefer rainbows that are more rainbowy and less…”

“Stoned chameleons drowning in finger paint?” Kirstie asks. 

Scott points at her. “That.”

Matt’s pretty sure the ugliness of this might be the one thing all of humanity can agree on, until Mitch says, “I like it.”

Matt’s reassured that the others, all more familiar with Mitch’s aesthetic preferences, are side-eyeing him, too. 

“Just kidding. It’s hideous.”

Whew. 


	25. Chair

Jade finds the perfect chair for Grandpa Frank on her fourth thrift store trip. It’s blue, has no obvious vomit stains, and when she plugs it into the wall, it actually works.

“Wish we could afford to buy a new one,” Tom says when she calls him over, like they haven’t argued over that a million times.

“Well, we can’t. But this has personality. History. Maybe it was the center of some tumultuous family drama. Maybe someone famous sat in it. You never know.”

Tom snorts. “I guarantee you, nothing interesting has ever happened to a chair like this.”

Spoilsport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one only makes sense as a PTX drabble if you've read my longer fic, Blink.


End file.
